Pop Pop
by callmesandy
Summary: Written for the Porn Battle on lj. Kensi gets a tattoo and brings Deeks along to watch.


notes: no profit garnered. no characters mine. title from the angie stone song, pop pop. Thanks to sfa for beta. Written for the Porn Battle.

"That's, that's where you're getting your tattoo?" Deeks stuttered, kind of adorably. Kensi smirked on the inside and shifted on the table so her sweatpants went a smidge lower.

"Yes," she said. "Some place where it won't be noticeable for work." She glared at Deeks in case his stuttering ended up revealing to the tattoo artist exactly what either of them did for a living. She was getting a tattoo right on top of her pussy so she understood his surprise. She also deeply appreciated his awe and blushing. Maybe he was just admiring her Brazilian. But she could see enough of the front of his jeans to think it wasn't just the waxing he was looking at.

She wondered how long it would take him to realize she'd invited him along for a reason. Given his current blink rate and how tight his jeans were getting, it might be a while.

"Yeah, yeah, no one's going to see that, there, I mean. Nope, that's pretty work safe." He fidgeted and then jammed his hands in his pockets.

The tattoo artist looked at Kensi, rolling her eyes. Then she went over all the tattoo essentials Kensi had heard before, warned her again about the pain and got to work. It was more painful than any kind of turn-on especially after an hour, but the point was the tattoo. It was beautiful.

"Yeah," Deeks said. "That looks really good. Really impressive."

"Now you have to drive me home," Kensi said, bandage in place, money and tip paid, salve in hand. "Thanks for being there for me."

"You didn't really need me," he said, getting slightly less flustered.

"Yeah, I know. But having you there made me stay calm and helped me deal with the pain. I mean, you can only have one hysterical person in the room at a time."

When they got to her apartment, he followed her inside and to her bedroom. She pushed the clothes off the bed and laid down on top of the comforter. She set her alarm for six hours when she got to take off the bandage.

He was standing at the door of her bedroom, smiling. "You just wanted me there to see you all naked."

"I was not naked," she said. She took off her t-shirt and took off her sweatpants. "Now I'm naked."

He opened his mouth to say something cool, she imagined, but then he closed it and blinked a few times. "Okay," he said. "That is totally naked. You're hitting on me."

"Clearly," she said. "I'm a little hurt it's not working."

"You did not have to get a tattoo to get me in bed," he said, finally walking in the bedroom. He took off his shoes and jeans and shirts. "And it's totally working. I just like, you know, a little time. Processing."

"I got the tattoo for me," she said, sitting up on her knees. She grabbed his arm and pulled him close. She pushed down his boxers. He stepped out of them and got on the bed with her.

"It's a really great tattoo," he said. "Like your body, also really great."

She said, "Does your brain disconnect when you get naked? Cause that was just bad." She sat back.

"Not when I'm naked, per se, but when I'm naked, you're naked and you're you." He sat up. "It's really bad to say you have a great body?"

"Not in the slightest," she said. "But for someone who talks so much, it's kind of a letdown. All you say is great. No metaphors, no similes."

"I'll give you metaphors," he said. He held her hips. HIs hands felt hot against her bare skin. She smiled as he pulled her gently onto his thighs, her legs open. He slid his hands down to hold her butt and kissed her neck. She giggled. "Tickles," she said. She held onto his shoulder and slipped her hand down to touch herself. She was feeling better and better.

"Hey," he said. He pulled her hand away and pressed her hand against her stomach, against her piercing. "I got you," he said. He kept his one hand on top of hers while he touched the juncture of her thighs, teasing her. He kissed his way down her neck to the space between her breasts. Between his mouth and his scruff and his damn hand, she felt like she was burning from her pussy to her face and back again. Everything was wired and on fire. She could barely feel the dull ache from her tattoo.

When he took her left nippple in his mouth, she clawed at his shoulder. He pulled back and said, "Ouch. And ouch. Not turned on by pain, Kens." He smirked at her. He stilled his hand, just lightly pressing on the outside of where she wanted him. She was wet and turned on and she wanted him to move. She could see he was hard. It was just mean for him to not move for even twenty seconds.

He said, "Are you on the pill? Or something?"

"Yes, or something and you can please fuck me now."

"So polite," he said. She was pretty sure they both moved at the same time, so she was lowering herself onto his dick just as he was thrusting up. "Fuck," he said, panting as he pushed up and up and she met him with each stroke.

"Fuck," she said. "Don't touch the bandage."

"Got it," he said. "Don't tear any muscles."

She anchored herself, pushing down on his shoulders. He was quiet and she was moaning. Finally, finally, she could feel the fireworks from her toes to her hair.

She relaxed against his chest. She had actually drawn tiny lines of blood from scratching his back. She giggled again.

"Next time," he said. "I think I'd like a blowjob."

"Only if you go down on me. Twice." She smiled and lay back on the bed. "We have the next five hours or so."


End file.
